


Daredevils

by AnastasiaNoelle



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Biting, Blood, Choking, Consensual Non-Consent, Degradation, Dirty Talk, F/M, Hair-pulling, Mafia AU, Rough Sex, Spit Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:08:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27681221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnastasiaNoelle/pseuds/AnastasiaNoelle
Summary: Kuroo's station in life as the leader of the Nekoma Mafia allotted him any woman he wanted in Tokyo—and he had plenty of playthings, but you? You were his favorite. You always fucked him like you loved him, let him do anything he pleased and still begged for more.But then you’d always let him go; there was no pleading, no big eyes and pouty lips begging him to stay the night. You let him be who he was, let him do whatever the fuck he wanted to, never asked where he was or what he did or who he killed, and it was your indifference to him that kept him coming back.
Relationships: Kuroo Tetsurou/Original Female Character(s), Kuroo Tetsurou/Reader
Comments: 5
Kudos: 112





	Daredevils

**Author's Note:**

> This story contains Consensual Non-Consent. Kuroo and reader have an established friends with benefits relationship, and agreed prior to this story to engage in a safe, consensual situation of non-consent elements.

Kuroo always took pride seeing you on stage, especially when you wore those provocative gowns that he bought for you. He sat back in his chair, one arm crossed across his chest while the other nursed a glass of bourbon to his lips. Tonight, you were more sensual than he’d seen you before, your hands cupped around the microphone, hips swaying as you sang. You were a harpy culling her crowd. The designer dress was dripping from your curves, every seam crafted to hug your body. He couldn’t keep his eyes off your waist, couldn’t keep his eyes off the high cut of the slit that exposed the smooth flesh of your thigh. He knew every man in that room was doing the same, all of them lost to the delirium of melody, but none of them got to have you like he did.

You never asked for the dresses, or the shoes, or the pearls, or _his_ favorite color of lipstick; no, you never asked for anything, his seductive little songbird. But you always said thank you, a peculiar glint in your eyes that he knew you saved only for him.

His station in life as the leader of the Nekoma Mafia allotted him any woman he wanted in Tokyo—and he had plenty of playthings, but you? You were his favorite. You always fucked him like you loved him, let him do anything he pleased and still begged for more. But then you’d always let him go; there was no pleading, no big eyes and pouty lips begging him to stay the night. You let him be who he was, let him do whatever the fuck he wanted to, never asked where he was or what he did or who he killed, and it was your indifference to him that kept him coming back.

He wanted to make you beg for him to stay, but tonight, he wanted you to beg for him to _stop._

Your voice rang in his head unconnected to the lyrics you were singing.

 _You can force me to fuck you any time you want, Tetsurō_ —god his name sounded good in your mouth, even in his thoughts— _surprise me one night. I’ll say no, I’ll fight back, but only stop if I say our safeword._

The two of you had this conversation a few months ago and, at the time, he hadn’t thought much of it, still too blissed out after fucking your face underneath his desk. You’d still been swallowing his cum when he mentioned how he liked to take control of you like that, all rough hands and violent kisses that left bruises even on your cheeks where he had pulled you in to suck his cock.

But now, after too many weeks of being away from you on business, he’d had a lot of time for the exchange to settle into ruminations. He came here tonight with the full intention of forcing himself onto you after you stepped off that stage, and the image in his mind alone was enough to have him resituating his aching cock in his trousers.

__________________________________

Of course you spotted him in the crowd. He was unmistakable, black hair simmering beyond the heat of the stage lights. You couldn’t help but keep your eyes on him for a little too long at moments, excitement curling inside your belly.

You hated to admit to yourself that you’d missed him, that you’d been looking for him within the throngs of people every night, just hoping to catch a glimpse of golden eyes and a loosened tie in his usual spot in the back of the nightclub.

And there he was, eyeing you down like a predator would his prey, a grin so cavalier and catlike it made you shiver. The sleeves of his white dress shirt were already rolled up like he was prepared to sink his fingers into you at any moment.

It was hard to focus on your set, hard to keep your attention on other members in the crowd. Your hands were sweating and you were glued to the microphone out of fear that, if you let go, you’d wander right off the stage and into his lap. It was an agonizing, and quite titillating, half hour of singing.

You made a beeline to your dressing room in the back after taking a bow and blowing a few kisses, foregoing mingling at the bar with patrons. You needed to wash your hands, you needed to take a breath before you went out to see him, before you hurriedly texted him to come meet you.

But he was already there, a fresh cigarette between thumb and forefinger as he lounged against the doorframe to your room.

“Hey, kitten, been a while.”

His voice had your hair standing on end, made you stumble in your stride.

“Tetsurō,” a smile pulled at your cheeks, “you’re in my way.”

“I would say give me a password, but I suppose a kiss will do.”

You stood before him, plucking the cigarette from his fingers and pressing it to your lips for a drag. Your weight shifted to one heeled foot, your eyes never leaving his as you took a long inhale of the menthol and tobacco, the cherry of the cigarette growing hot.

He reached for you, pulling you against him so his lips could capture the smoke, drinking in the taste. You both groaned at the contact, a voltaic hum syncing your bodies together. His lips were forceful, commanding, taking the lead and easily prying yours apart for him to explore the familiar home of your mouth. The action felt natural, but you could sense there was something unknown pent up inside of him.

Your free hand fumbled with the doorknob behind him, the other holding the ashen cigarette at a safe distance away.

“Mhm, did you miss me?” he mumbled against your lips, hand trailing down the satin of your dress to trace the slit at your thigh. Long, nimble fingers curled up to find your panties.

“Not very much,” you were being cheeky, but he didn’t have to catch that.

“Oh yea? Your pussy tells me otherwise.”

A sharp moan erupted from your throat as his middle finger pressed against the dampness of your panties, his forefinger following and circling against your clit.

“ _Fuck_ —get, get in the room,” you breathed, finally getting purchase on the knob and shoving him and his greedy hands into your dressing room.

Kuroo snatched the cigarette back from your hand, taking in a pull before smothering it into the ashtray on the vanity built into the wall.

You stood before the mirror, catching a flash of him moving behind you. You felt hot, a little overwhelmed, and you weren’t sure if it was the heat from the bulbs that lined the edges of your dressing table, or if it was his presence making you edgy.

His hands were back on your hips as you removed your earrings and set them onto the table. His fingers were eager, one hand ghosting up your body to slide down the strap of your dress so he could kiss and suck at your neck and shoulder.

“Shame you didn’t miss me,” there was a tonal shift in his voice, the timbre deeper, darker, “cause I sure did miss that pretty little mouth of yours.”

His fingers dug into your jaw, roughly pulling your face to the side so he could nip at the corner of your lips.

“Easy,” you warned, pressing your elbow back against him to get some space.

“Easy? Oh kitten, there will be no _easy_ , tonight. I haven’t had you in weeks, and I’m taking what I want.”

Realization washed over you after a few heartbeats. You grinned against the fingers pressing into your cheeks, knowing and delighted.

“Sorry, _Tetsurō_ ,” you added a vile bite to his name as you pulled your face from his grip, “I’m not interested tonight.”

“Not interested?” he sneered, that wild, feline smirk back in its place.

He was still behind you, pressing up against your back with fingers digging into the flesh of your thigh. He eyed you through the mirror. He looked menacing behind you, amber eyes narrowed and glowing within the reflection of yellow lights. You’d almost forgotten how big he was; his broad body dwarfed yours, meaty shoulders caging around you, strong, round biceps curling underneath your arms as he encircled you in a tight embrace. You were drawn to the moving hand on your leg, the entirety of his palm almost eclipsing your thigh as desirous fingers once again crept towards your pussy.

“You should leave,” you meant for the words to sound serious, but there was clearly an underlying, breathy want within your voice.

“Absolutely not,” he sunk his teeth into the juncture of your shoulder and neck, groaning at the taste of your skin, “I came here for you.”

You held back your moan, struggling within his hold. Your hands flew over his, one on your thigh, the other on your stomach, bidding to pry off his ironclad fingers.

“Get off me.”

He only pulled you deeper into him, his grip tighter, teeth harsher. You winced at the pain of his bite. You struggled again, panting as you found no fruition to your efforts. _God he was strong_ , and he was barely using any of his power to hold you.

You stepped a heeled foot onto his, jamming the stiletto into the leather of his shoe. He hissed and shoved you forward, sending your hips to knock into the edge of the vanity.

“I said get off me!”

You thought he’d hesitate, that he would take a moment to see if you really meant it, but you were mistaken.

He was into the game now.

“I like it when you’re feisty, kitten.”

You turned around to say something, but he was already on you, already one step ahead. The moment you turned, he had you in his arms, using his strength to lift you up onto the hot vanity.

“Tetsurō—!”

“Oh, shut up, you little slut, I know you want me, there’s no need to hide it.”

His hands were on your legs, in your dress. Too easily he tore at the fabric, the threads snapping like crackling fireworks against your skin. You gasped, pressing your hands against his shoulders, pushing at him with a genuine amount of strength to which he didn’t budge.

“ _Fuck,_ you can’t just—”

“ _Yes, I fucking can_ ,” he scoffed, continuing to tear at the seam that lined the side of your gown, “don’t forget who spoils you.”

“Yea, a fucking _mob boss_ ,” you slighted, digging your nails into his wrist as if that would stop him.

He slapped your left cheek, hard, quick, like the fast swipe of a panther swatting at restless prey. Your neck swung to the side and you _moaned_ , deep and strained from your chest. Your face throbbed, blood welling under your smarting skin like it was trying to figure out what happened and how to dull the pain, even though the pain was blossoming into pleasure.

“I’m someone who could end your life any time I want to, kitten. I can either hunt you down here or somewhere else, so I suggest you stop fighting.”

The gown was finally tugged from your body, and what was left of its shape fell down to your sides, the fabric caught underneath where you sat on the vanity.

With his hands free, he cradled your face, palms engulfing your cheeks. He forced you to look up at him. When you did, it brought you back to reality. He appeared wicked, enthralled, you could practically see thoughts churning inside his mind like the inner workings of a clock—he always was too smart for his own good, or, perhaps, for _your_ own good. Your irises danced over the handsome planes of his face, over the feline curve of his eyes, over the full lips that you truly had missed feeling against yours. But you held yourself back; if he wanted to force you, you’d damn well let him.

“You’re mine, all mine.”

“ _No_ , I’m not yours. You don’t own me.”

His thumb caught to the edge of your lips, keeping them parted.

“Oh kitten,” he purred, sucking his tongue back into his mouth.

Your heart began to race as you heard a swish.

He spit down onto you, a slow, viscous string of saliva dripping from his mouth onto yours where he kept your lips pried open.

“I _do_ own you.”

You tried to turn your face, but his hold was firm, keeping you from avoiding his territorial marking.

“Stop,” your voice was weak.

“Drink it all up like a good little girl.”

He shoved himself between your thighs, getting even closer as he watched your eyebrows furrow while you obediently licked your tongue along your lips, gathering his saliva to gulp down.

He groaned aloud at the sight, smashing his mouth down on to yours, wet and messy from spit. You didn’t kiss him back. You kept pressing back against his shoulders, trying to pull one of your knees up between your bodies to push him away, but he was quick. One of his hands snatched your thigh, roughly pressing it back down against the table to keep you in place. His mouth still worked against yours, hungry and ferocious, taking from you even though you weren’t giving anything back.

You needed to do something before you gave into him, before you wrapped your arms around him and spoiled the fun. He was intoxicating, especially with one of his hands drifting around your back to unhook your bra with ease.

One of your hands slid to his loosened tie, fingers entangling in the red fabric. You tugged, _hard_ , attempting to force his mouth away from yours; he merely chuckled, continuing to pull at your own clothing, a little too effortlessly removing the cups of your bra from your breasts.

As cool air swept over your exposed nipples, you shivered and groaned, attempting to swat away the strong hand reaching to grope one of them.

You bit his greedy mouth, sharp and quick, catching his bottom lip between one of your canine teeth. He reacted immediately, shoving your head back against the mirror so harshly that a thick crack burst into the reflective glass.

“ _Fuck!_ ” it was both of your voices shouting together, you cupping your aching skull and Kuroo fingering his busted lip.

“God you fucking bitch, you’ll pay for that.”

Blood was slick down his chin, the plump flesh of his lip noticeably pierced and split.

Your instincts were telling you to apologize, but you kept them at bay, choosing instead to take the moment to attempt to dash around his side towards the locked door. The remnants of your ruined dress fell to the floor as you quickly stood from the vanity, feet nearly tripping over one another in your heels.

“Oh no you don’t!” He caught your upper arm, swinging your helpless body back towards his. The severity of his motions had your legs buckling underneath you, your balance completely lost. He caught you before you hit the floor, keeping his arms tight around your nearly naked body as he maneuvered you to where he wanted you.

“ _Tetsurō_ ,” your fingers were clawing into his forearms, feet dragging against the hardwood as he wrangled you to stand in front of him, “let me _go_.”

You were startled to see yourself in the mirror, having already forgotten your nakedness. You both looked disheveled, wild, his normally pristine shirt wrinkled, the white collar soaking up the drippings of blood from his mouth. You had bite marks on your neck, dark and glaring against your skin, your breasts shaking as you struggled against his encroaching arms—it was sensual, to watch yourself wrestle against him, to see his smoldering eyes watching you just as intently in the mirror. You caught a glimpse of your panties, the rustling of your bodies against one another having pushed the fabric higher on your hips, and deeper within your sopping folds.

One of Kuroo’s hands settled around your throat, using his fist as an anchor to keep your body still. His grip was harsh, fingertips solid but dormant against the sides of your neck, but there was the lingering threat that all he had to do was _twist, squeeze, or press_ , and you’d never sing again, perhaps never leave this room again.

“Do you know what normally happens to people who fight me?” he tilted your neck back in his hold, bringing your ear closer to his mouth.

Your eyes stared at him through the reflection, your attention not leaving his face even as his free hand began to stroll across your body, fingertips tracing figure-eights on your stomach, climbing toward your breasts.

“Answer me when I speak to you, slut.”

“N-no,” it was hard to gulp underneath his palm, saliva pooling against your tongue, “I don’t know…”

“Oh yes you do, you just don’t like thinking about it.”

You could feel him smirk against your ear, see the catlike grin spreading like wildfire in the mirror.

He groped your breast, fingers brutal against your sensitive skin, pressing into the fatty flesh with unbridled possessiveness. It was painful, making your back arch away from the touch and into his chest. But it was stimulating all the same, your nipple hardening and beckoning to be pinched, tugged, owned by his hand.

“I kill the people who displease me, kitten,” he disclosed, admiring how large his hand looked against your breast as he kneaded your flesh. His knuckles were scattered with bruises, ring finger still forming a fresh scab from a recent altercation that required his fist. His skin looked barbaric compared to yours, scars and bruises against a fresh, smooth body.

He captured your nipple, wringing it between thumb and forefinger. Your whine was stopped by his hand, trapped within your vocal cords and unable to emerge under his grip.

“I could kill _you_ so easily…” there was a pleasured grumble within his voice, bloodied mouth now kissing at the column of your neck between his spread fingers, “does that turn you on?”

You tried to shake your head, your hands pushing at both of his forearms in an attempt to free yourself. He only clutched onto you more tightly, your nipple now stinging from pain, your vision blurring from the decreased oxygen to your brain.

There was a panic brewing in your belly that you didn’t expect, true fear creeping up your spine. You knew you could mutter out your safeword and he would stop…or at least, so you thought. He looked lost within the mirror, bloodstained face almost drunk with power, his cock hard and nudging between your ass cheeks. He was getting high from this, and while you could feel a craving gnawing inside of you to give yourself up to him, there was also an edge of reality still pressing into your thoughts. Kuroo was _dangerous_ , and if he wasn’t careful, if he crushed into your windpipe just a little too hard, and he’d have a mess on his hands, a dead plaything to throw in the dumpster behind the nightclub.

“Do you know how many mouthy whores I’ve had to get rid of? I’ve learned it’s so easy to snap pretty little necks,” his fist grew tighter around your throat to emphasize his point.

“Don’t say things like that,” you gasped, nails nearly tearing into the skin of his wrist.

His hand released your breast, your skin hot and burning from his harsh ministrations. But the reprieve was brief, his fingers snaking down your body and into your panties. You jerked your hips backwards to avoid his touch, only to find yourself grinding against the fat cock straining against his pants.

“I think you like what I’m saying,” he emphasized his words by running the pad of his index finger over your clit, your body shivering at his touch. He laughed in your ear, pressing his hips firmly against your body as you struggled to get out of his hold.

His fingers were ruthless. He spread you apart, sliding between your shamefully dripping folds with quick ease. His palm was cupped against your sex, thumb shoved directly against your clit as the other long digits prodded your tight hole. You tried to clamp your legs shut, but his hand was more durable than you expected. There was no physical way you could wiggle yourself out of this situation, and that realization alone had a concoction of panic and pleasure toiling inside your belly.

You bit your lip to stop the moans from bubbling out of your mouth.

You’d always loved his fingers; they were long, thick, perfect for curling inside you and finding that fleshy patch against your inner walls that had you shaking and panting. Two of them pushed inside of you, your panties ruined and forgotten against your thigh. He wasn’t gentle. Each move of his hand was a satisfying jab into your pussy, jolts of hard pleasure racing up your spine. And his thumb was just as merciless. He twirled it in tight circles across your sensitive clit, the bliss turning hot under your skin.

“Stop, stop, please stop, it’s too much!”

He knew the words were a lie, he could tell by how your legs were shaking.

You were Kuroo’s favorite instrument to play, he knew your melodies of ecstasy by heart. You might be able to cull him with that siren’s voice of yours, but he could string you along no other man could.

Your slick was dripping against his fingers now, each squelching push of his fingers had you pressing farther into him. His cock was nestled perfectly between your ass cheeks and each convulsion of your body, every clenching, stimulated him just as much.

“Fuck, no, no, you have to stop, Tetsuroō, please!”

“Shut. Up.”

His hand squeezed tighter around your throat, your eyelids fluttering at the increased loss of vision as your oxygen flow waned.

Kuroo watched you in the mirror, watched how your stomach was tightening, your thighs clamping together, knees buckling together from his invasive touch. You could see him watching you behind your closing lids, could see his smirk growing like a weed in a garden.

You felt his fingers begin to curve inside of you, wrist twisting to get the perfect angle. You were gasping, trying to catch short breaths beneath his hand before your inevitable fall.

“T-tet—”

You came hard and fast, the pleasure so blinding that you slumped within his hold, knees dropping to where the only thing holding your body up were his hands. Your cunt was aching, now cinching his fingers inside of you almost painfully. You cried out, sobbing at the intensity of it all, tears pricking at your lashes. Your body was humming, buzzing, almost like you’d left your skin and were hovering above your body in a cloud of euphoria.

He kept pushing his fingers inside of you, thumb never ceasing against your clit.

“Stop! Stop!” you were screaming it a little too loud now, if someone were to walk by your dressing room, they’d hear you. Kuroo’s hand flew to your mouth, finally giving your neck a reprieve from his monstrous grip. You exhaled shakily into his palm, your body calming down as his hand between your thighs came to a halt.

“I’m not stopping, kitten. No one could stop me now. I think your filthy little body is finally warmed up enough for my cock, what do you think?” his voice was husky against your ear, breath fanning into your hair.

“N-no! Anything but that, please don’t, Tetsuroō, please, I’m sorry!”

Your words were muffled against his palm, tears now streaming into his hand.

You didn’t expect that you could actually get yourself to cry—were you truly scared? Or had you fallen deeper into your role than you expected?

Kuroo paid your sounds little mind.

Your body was weak as he pushed you forward, hand releasing your face to grab the back of your head as he pressed your face into the vanity. Your legs were shaking, wobbly within your heels with your ass pressed into the air like this, your hands flat against the counter. You took a few moments to take deep breaths, your eyes focusing on the table. The ashtray was still lightly smoking from the half-smoked cigarette that had been shoved into it, your lipstick and earrings appearing like lost treasures drifting upon a sea out before you.

You heard the clinking of Kuroo’s belt buckle behind you, felt his hand secure itself into your hair, keeping your face smashed against the vanity’s surface.

Then his other hand was on your ass, kneading your flesh before smacking the rounded flesh. You winced, hissing between your teeth.

“You’re a worthless whore, I don’t know why I even bother with you anymore.”

That jab stung more than your smarting ass cheek.

You whimpered, closing your eyes as you felt his hand pull at your panties, once again shifting them to the side so he could access your weeping pussy, already spent from your first orgasm.

“Mhm, I can’t wait to see you cry when you’re stuffed with my cock.”

“Stop this, please. I’ll do anything else you want, I-I swear!”

You felt the hot tip of his cock press against your folds, gathering your slick against his heated skin. You tried to angle your hips away, but Kuroo drew the back of your panties up into his fist, using them like reins to keep you in place.

“I don’t think you understand, kitten. _This_ is what I want.”

He shoved his cock ruthlessly inside of you, the sharp pain of being spread racing across your nerves. You cried out, mouth hanging open against the cold countertop as his cock speared into your insides. But that pain quickly morphed into pleasure, his hips snapping up against yours with a ferocity that had moans spilling from your mouth even as you tried to stop them.

Your body was bouncing from his actions, ass slapping against his unbuttoned slacks as he pounded inside of you. There would surely be cum stains against the threads once he was done.

“Such a helpless little thing, aren’t you? Couldn’t stop me even though you tried.”

And you had tried. You told him you’d fight back if he ever wanted to play like this, and you expected that you’d be able to stave him off to some extent. But you hadn’t been able to. Every attempt to run, to move, to get him to stop, had been futile. He was too strong, his will too powerful for you to overcome. And that’s what had you quaking beneath him; you’d truly fallen prey to him, and you knew that if this ever wasn’t play, he would probably use even more force against you. You were helpless, save for the trust you had in him.

He kept a tight pull on your panties as he fucked you. His fingers were fisted around the fabric, pulling it tight against your skin, keeping it molded against your clit as his cock continued to barrel inside of you. Your walls were clamping down from all the sensations, fluttering with every thrust of his fat cock inside of you. You could feel that familiar, thick vein that ran along the underside of him rubbing against your pussy with every plunge. You felt stuffed, like your body was taking on more than you could handle.

“St-stop,” it came out with a moan.

“You know you love it,” he groaned, loud and deep and it made you shiver, “you love it when I treat you like the slut you are.”

You weakly threw your hands behind you, hoping to claw at him, to throw him off his game, but all he had to do was fist his fingers into the roots of your hair and _tug_ to get you to stop. You screamed at the searing pain, not used to him pulling your hair so roughly. Your neck arched back at the force, lifting your breasts from the cool table to bounce with his thrusts. Your hands were slick with sweat as you trained to gain purchase on the vanity, lewd sounds pouring from your mouth with every thrust of him inside of you.

With his hand jerking your head back, now you could see him again in the mirror.

He was grinning, that smear of blood still staining his lips, his chin. He looked wild, black hair tousled even more than usual from your tryst. The sight of him had your heart racing, blood pumping even faster to where your bodies were joined together. You loved that look in his eye, like at any moment he was going to devour you and spit you back out spent and needy. You felt violated, wrecked, but you knew he wasn’t going to stop soon.

“You like watching, kitten? Like watching me stuff this pretty pussy of yours?”

“I hate you,” you spit the words out like venom, narrowing your eyes at him through the reflection.

“Say that again and I’ll slap you harder than I did earlier.”

Your cheek stung with the memory of his palm.

Before you could open your mouth again, he increased his pace, using the leverage of his hands in your hair and around your panties to slam you back into his cock as if you weighed nothing, as if you were nothing.

Curses painted your lips each time his cock stretched you again, and again, and again, as the angle he pulled you into had his cock brushing against that sweet spot inside of you. Your underwear was pulled even tighter than before, each jostle of your bodies making the fabric rub against your swollen clit. The feeling of orgasm was growing again, your senses constantly being propelled into a state of bliss every time he took a deep stroke inside of you.

“You think you’re special, don’t you? That’s why— _fuck_ —you think you can tell me no? You’re just another whore to fuck,” he was growling, panting, “that’s all you are, you’re pathetic.”

His words felt like acid on your skin, burning you, heating you in all the wrong ways, but your body loved it, soaked up every curse and slight and turned it into boiling pleasure.

“ _Fuck, stop!_ I don’t wanna cum, I don’t wanna cum!”

“You’re gonna cum, kitten. Cum so that little pussy gets tight enough to milk my cock.”

You clenched your lower muscles, genuinely trying to avert the churning coil of pleasure inside of you, but all it did was make matters worse. Your pussy kept sucking him in, each thrust messy, loud, your ass slapping against his slacks and slick pooling down your thighs.

“Oh you feel so good, feel so fucking good squeezing me like that.”

That fresh praise had you coming undone. You felt him pull your panties even tighter against your curves, the fabric now almost cutting into your clit, and the sensation was all too much.

“Tetsurō, Tetsurō, stop, stop, I-I’m cumming, stop!”

It was more intense than before. You felt your whole body go numb, you watched as your mouth opened in a silent scream, every part of you trembling as the seams of sanity split with your orgasm.

He didn’t stop, not even as he came inside of you, ropes and ropes of hot cum filling up your sloppy pussy and spurting out onto his clothes, onto your thighs. He was unrelenting, keeping you within the throes of orgasmic bliss with his cock plunging inside of you over and over again. His force had your underwear splitting in his fist, threads snapping against your ass as the cloth broke apart.

The sound of your ripping panties had him slowing, now grinding his cock deep inside of your walls as you both came down from your highs.

When your bodies finally came to a halt, he let go of your hair, allowing you to catch yourself with your palms flat to the vanity. You hung your head, trying to even out your breaths and let your heart rate calm down as your vision unblurred.

You could hear him panting behind you, then finally felt his spent cock slip out of you, trails of cum and slick falling against your thighs.

You finally began to move, reaching between your legs to pry the remnants of your panties away from your cunt, letting the ravaged fabric fall to the floor where the remains of your dress still lay.

“Kitten?” Kuroo’s voice was soft, hands even more gentle as he wrapped his arms around you from behind, “are you okay?”

“ _Fuck_ ,” you groaned, straightening your back to look at him, to fall into his arms, “that was…exhiliarting.”

He pressed tender kisses into your neck, tongue soothing over where he had bitten you earlier.

“God I fucking missed you,” he mumbled into your skin.

“I missed you too.”

You turned in his arms, pressing your weary body against his chest, feeling the sweat that had cooled into his white dress shirt. He kissed you slowly, deliberately, the taste of iron still present from his split lip. You embraced him, kissing him back with the same kind of easy passion.

“I need a drink after that,” you mumbled against his lips.

“I need new pants.”

You stepped back and looked down at his black suit trousers, finding them all kinds of soiled with creamy cum. You couldn’t help but laugh, the heaviness of your earlier actions breaking with the sound of your giggles.

“You normally keep spare clothes in your car, right? In case they get all bloody? Let me get dressed and I’ll go get them for you.”

You bent down to gather your own ruined clothes, wadding up the fabric of that beautiful dress and dumping it in the bin. You heard Kuroo mutter something about buying you a new one as you sifted through the small closet in your dressing room, slipping on a short cocktail dress and a fresh pair of panties to catch whatever cum was going to continue to leak out of you tonight.

He was smoking another cigarette as you left him behind in your dressing room to fetch him a new pair of pants, car keys in hand.

The music of the jazz band was loud as you meandered back and forth between the nightclub. You realized that no one could have heard you screaming over the sound of the plucking bass and the shrill of the trumpet.

You hurriedly returned to your dressing room, pants in hand.

You cleaned Kuroo’s lip with a damp cloth as he slung on his fresh pants, the cigarette now between your lips as you did your best to clean the blood from his face.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have bitten you so harshly.”

“Don’t worry about it, made it feel real. I can’t believe you didn’t call the safeword.”

He plucked the cigarette out of your mouth once he was done buckling his belt, grinning despite the clear cut on his lip.

“I told you I wanted to play along.”

You flicked off the lights to your vanity, grabbing his hand to pull him from the room.

The two of you found empty stools at the bar, Kuroo ordering your favorite drink as a few patrons wandered by to compliment you on your earlier set. You leaned your chin into your palm, keeping your eyes on the handsome, wondrous creature next you. You never knew what each encounter would consist of whenever he came around, but you felt yourself falling deeper into his web every time he fucked you. But you were still a little afraid of his world, but knew you’d be on the mafia’s doorstep if he ever asked you to be.

You thanked the bartender as your drink arrived, holding the cool glass in your hand.

“I think tonight deserves a toast, don’t you?”

That catlike grin was back on his face, amber eyes glowing with mischief.

“Mhm, what to, Tetsurō?”

He dipped his glass closer to yours, the rims kissing together.

“To being daredevils.”


End file.
